


Electrify my Heart ☆✩ [HIATUS]

by gerblinsssss



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half-Life, Half-Life but the AI is Self Aware
Genre: And That’s Okay, Benrey has ADHD, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gordon has PTSD, Gordon’s a single dad, HLVRAI, Half-Life VR But the AI is Self-Aware, M/M, May be a little ooc idk, Mutual Pining, Not A Game AU, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, Spoilers mayhaps, Swearing, Wholesome maybe, angsty kinda, benrey is a gay little passport goblin, but he’s doing pretty okay, frenrey, gordon is a disaster bi, im not projecting you are, tw - swearing, tw- will probably have descriptions of bloody scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerblinsssss/pseuds/gerblinsssss
Summary: Benrey shows up on Gordon’s doorstep one day after being thought dead, becoming an unexpected housemate and eventually causing a ton of chaos like the little pog gremlin he is, but not without some good ol’ pining and angst ;)
Relationships: Benrey & Gordon Freeman, Benrey/Gordon Freeman, Tommy Coolatta & Darnold, Tommy Coolatta/Darnold
Comments: 20
Kudos: 104





	1. At the Doorstep

**Author's Note:**

> frenrey is great and makes my two braincells happy. It might be a little ooc but I hope y’all like it! (and yes the title is some of the lyrics to a Jack Stauber song, it’ll maybe be fitting later in the story if I make more dw)

Gordon stands in his doorway. It’s a particularly chilly October day, and a rainy one, too, the rolling clouds dark and angry in the sky. It’s about 11:30 in the morning, and he has just woken up. Earlier, when he heard a knock at his door, he expected the mailman or something, or maybe a neighbor complaining about his snoring. However, this wasn’t the case whatsoever. His mouth is agape at the sight before him.

Benrey.

He would be embarrassed at the bathrobe he‘s wearing if he wasn’t so taken aback. He’s been living in a good-sized apartment with his son ever since the government started pumping hush money into his bank account a few months back. Speaking of which, Black Mesa was decimated beyond repair, which left the entirety of the science team unemployed, but the government started to fill all of their pockets up pretty quickly in order to keep their mouths shut. Everyone but Benrey. To be fair, the government thought he died, considering that he disappeared for a while after being defeated on Xen. And so did Gordon. But lo and behold, here he is, soaking wet from the heavy rain, wearing a plain white t-shirt, blue sweatpants, and some flip-flops, standing at Gordon’s doorstep. 

Before Gordon can say anything, Benrey speaks up, “Hey, uh, bro. Got evicted. Kinda sucks. Found Tommy’s number and he gave me your address.”

What. The fuck. 

Oh, there are SO many things to unpack there. One, Benrey’s not dead as a doornail. Two, Benrey kept in fucking contact with Tommy. Three, Tommy knew about Benrey still being alive. Four, Benrey doesn’t live on Xen, and Tommy had the audacity to give him Gordon’s number, and five, he went to Gordon of all people.

In a quick act of anger and confusion, Gordon blurts out a slew of curses that would make a sailor retire in shame. Benrey waits silently, seemingly unaffected by Gordon’s attitude, too lost in thought to register that the words coming out of Gordon’s mouth were aimed at him.

“I. Have so many fucking questions,” Gordon says, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, “Just... what the fuck? You’re not dead? And you got evicted? You realize how fucking insane this is, right? The last time I saw you, you were literally trying to fucking butcher me, and now you’re looking for what, pity? Get the fuck out of my doorway, man!” The harshness in his voice is too prominent.

Benrey doesn’t answer. He avoids eye contact, presumably trying to think of a response instead of retorting in a snarky way like he used to. This situation was actually effecting him, and not just someone around him, so it’s no wonder he’s feeling off and upset.

“...C’mon, bro. It’s a long story,” he mutters, “uh, it would be... pretty cool of you to let me inside instead of. Y’know. making me explain it while contractin’ hypothermia out here.”

Gordon makes what can only be described as an “are you fucking kidding me” face. “Hell. no. Are you serious? You literally made me an amputee, man! You tried to kill me! Why the fuck would I let you in?”

“Like I said, dude, it’s gonna take a while to explain, and you probably want an explanation, right? I’m sorry, if it helps. So why don’t you, uh, let me have a seat and shit. I won’t touch anything. It’ll be a little story time, bro.”

Gordon groans, massaging his temples. “Fine, Benrey. Just be quiet. My son is still asleep.” He sighs harshly.

“Oh, sweet, thanks. Forgot you had a son. I’ll try to be quiet or whatever.” 

Gordon steps out of the doorway, letting the cold and poorly dressed evictee inside. The living room is nicely furnished, and has a few gaming consoles hooked up to the large flatscreen television on display on one of the walls of the room. There are some shelves under the television holding the aforementioned consoles, along with a bunch of board games, several video game disks, and other miscellaneous cables and WiFi routers. A large gray couch and a coffee table are seated in front of it, and beneath it is a colorful circular rug on the light hardwood floor, each ring in it a different color, which, despite its varying hues, match with the pale blue walls and the colorful picture frames decorating it. Benrey gawks at the oasis of a gamer den Gordon has for a while, then attempts to sit on the couch, only to be stopped by Gordon. Benrey flashes a confused look.

“Wha?”

“You’re not sitting on my couch, man. Look at you, you’re fucking soaking!”

“Huh? Oh, I guess you’re right. Whaddaya expect me to do, Feetman? You didn’t exactly uh, give me a towel.”

Gordon does everything in his power to stop himself from shouting. He takes a deep breath, and exhales. “Benrey. I let you in my home after you’ve literally tried to murder me and my friends. I’m pretty sure I’ve been plenty fucking gracious, and I don’t really want to put up with your petulant shit right now. Just— fine. I’ll get you a towel.”

He huffs, trudging to the laundry room to get a towel. Benrey takes this as an opportunity to look around. A large doorway on the right of the living room leads to the kitchen, which upon further inspection is full of pleasant, almost rustic decorations. Taking a few steps towards the aforementioned doorway, he sees that there’s a bunch of colorful letter magnets and scribble drawings on the refrigerator. He walks into the kitchen, towards the fridge. 

Benrey inspects a drawing. Its craftsmanship is questionable at best and downright shitty at worst, but it’s pretty cute. It’s a little crayon portrait of presumably Joshua and his dad, with a background and everything. It’s sweet. Suddenly, he’s snapped out of his thoughts by the voice of a particularly short-tempered man.

“I got you a towel, come sit down.” Gordon calls unenthusiastically, holding up a tacky beach towel with his good arm.

Benrey turns around and pokes his head out from behind the obscuring doorway. “Wha? Oh, sweet.”

He walks back into the living room and takes the towel from Gordon, placing it on the couch. 

“So, are you gonna tell me about why you’re in my house now?” Gordon asks harshly.

“Uh, yeah, um... I got kicked out.”

“I know that already, dude. Tell me something new.” Gordon folds his arm— er, does something that resembles folding his arms, on the account that he’s kind of lacking one.

“Oh, right. Well, uh, first I kind of, came back from the dead. Because, you know, I can’t die and stuff. But when I woke up, I was covered in rubble and shit near the entrance of Black Mesa. Kinda ouch. Hurt, man. I didn’t know what time it was, or even just... the date at all, how long I’d been there. Eventually found a road and got someone to pick me up. Took me back to town, and I walked home from there. But the thing is, my landlord was already there, and, uh, I was really overdue on my rent, and I didn’t have the money, because I was kind of like— apparently I was presumed dead and my shit was returned to the government. Wasn’t very happy about that, kicked me out, couldn’t even take the rest of my clothes other than what I could quickly grab and wear. My uniform was fucked up.” Benrey’s voice grows quiet with the last sentence, coughing up a few sickly lime bubbles of Sweet Voice.

Gordon is surprised, to say the least. Damn, he wasn’t expecting that. He almost feels... sorry for the dude? No, no, fuck that. He couldn’t, shouldn’t feel bad for Benrey. The dude got Gordon’s arm sliced off, and then tried to kill him, at to top it all off, the entire time he was going through heavy, traumatizing shit, Benrey was antagonizing him just to rub salt in the wound. “Can’t you just... magic up some more money? And clothes? You’re magic, you should be able to do that, right?” 

“No, dude, I’m not all-powerful. Sure, I can change size, shape, and form, I can teleport, I have rapid regeneration, and I can do my Sweet Voice, but like, I can’t make material things. I’m not a god, man. I’m just... like, I’m the starter pokémon for a god, right? I’m flimsy as shit, and I can’t do a lot of cool things. I’m weak as fuck compared to uh, deities in religions, bro. Im not a god. I’m just not human.” A few more thin bubbles of Sweet Voice are coughed up.

Gordon doesn’t know how to respond to that. All this time, and he thought Benrey was all-powerful. Invincible and shit. But... he’s not. He’s just a guy. With weirdass nightmare alien powers, sure, but he’s just a guy. After a few minutes of silence, he finally says something, dryly laughing with the slightest undertone of hysteria in his voice. “Fuck, man. Shit. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any more fucked up.” He rests his face in his hand, his arm propped up on his knee.

Benrey stays silent. The atmosphere is extremely tense, and almost suffocating. He wants to say something, anything, that would make this conversation turn around, or to at least make Gordon understand his situation. He gets the familiar urge to cough up more Sweet Voice, and eventually gives in, the pale green bubbles foaming up like suds and refusing to break off or float away from his face.

Gordon turns his head to him, slightly uncovering one eye to observe this new and frankly unsettling kind of Sweet Voice, asking, “Are... you okay man? What’s lime mean?”

Benrey shifts in his seat uncomfortably, and mumbles in response, a minor silence filling the room. The sound of the rain can be heard dancing across the roof.

“Benrey, just say it. I don’t have the emotional energy to deal with your shit right now.”

“Jeez bro, fine. Lime means, uh, I’m... not fine.”

Shit. Now that Gordon looks at him, he’s not. Like, REALLY not. The dude is soaked, and looks like he got a mud puddle splashed on him by a car or something. His eye bags are prominent as all hell, his hair’s a mess, and hell, he’s a more sickly pale than usual.

“Damn. You should take a shower,” Gordon says, gesturing with his only hand at Benrey’s ruined clothing, “you’re kind of fucked up.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess. Uh, I have no clothes to change into, though. Pretty, uh— pretty unepic. Fail compilation.”

Gordon groans. “Look, you can wear some of my clothes. Just go take a shower, man, you look like shit.”

Benrey nods, standing up and taking his towel, but then stops, turning his head to Gordon.

“Uh, directions to the bathroom please?”

Gordon stands up reluctantly. “I’ll just show you.”

He walks in front of Benrey to the hallway left of the living room, where the guest bedroom and bathroom is.

“There. The bathroom is the door on the right. I’ll go get you some clothes.”

“Sweet, okay.”

Benrey walks into the bathroom, closing the door. The sound of running water can be heard. Gordon walks out of the hallway and into the one on the right of the living room, where his and Joshua’s bedrooms and bathroom are. Stepping into his room, he quietly begins to have what resembles a minor panic attack. Who can blame him? He just let the undying bastard who almost murdered him and gave him an anxiety disorder into his home, and even feels pity towards him. This shit’s fucked. Hell, what if the guys find out? Tommy already knows, which he needs to discuss with him later, but what about Coomer and Bubby? Even Forzen and Darnold might find out. Jesus, he might hyperventilate. 

Using his doorframe as a prop, Gordon leans on it to make sure he doesn’t fall over and potentially wake Joshua. Shit, what’s Benrey gonna be like around Joshua? Gordon’s mind is reeling. He makes it to his closet, taking deep breaths to make sure he doesn’t practically pass out from the bullshit making his blood pressure higher than Mt. Fuji. Gordon decides to change out of his bathrobe and into something more presentable, selecting his favorite- but dumb- novelty t-shirt and some orange sweatpants. For Benrey, he grabs an outgrown, plain grey t-shirt and some red and blue checkered pajama pants, along with some underwear and a hairbrush. Wait, ew... they’re gonna be sharing— you know what, let’s not add on to Gordon’s already heavy-as-fuck basket full of concerns.

He sits on his bed for a moment and takes a deep breath, running his hand through his long, curly brown hair. Christ almighty. After a long time of sitting in his un-illuminated room, he stands up with a sigh and ventures to the guest bathroom. He knocks on the door. No reply. He presses his ear to the door. Oh, the water’s still running. He’s probably still in the shower. Gordon quietly cracks the door open and places Benrey’s borrowed clothing on the counter and then slowly shuts the door again.

Sighing, he walks back into the living room, and gets the idea to play some video games to clear his mind. Turning on the Xbox, he subconsciously debates himself on what to play. Eventually he settles on Stardew Valley, as that’s a pretty mellow and calming game. He sits on the couch and turns on the TV. Right after, he decides he wants a blanket, and grabs a pale purple one from a basket beside the sofa. After throwing it over himself, he takes a special controller from the coffee table and selects the game of his choosing. This controller is designed specifically for amputees to make it easier to play games. It was expensive, but fortunately he had the money to get it. He clicks on his save and waits for it to load. As soon as it does, he feels slightly calmer. Video games like this always give him a form of escape from his troubles. 

He gets lost in the gameplay, continuously relaxing more. He talks to his favorite villagers, goes through the mines, upgrades his tools, decorating his house; he hasn’t even realized that Benrey’s been watching him play for the past fifteen minutes.

“Oh, pog dude, cool house decorations.” Benrey finally comments, leaning forward on the back of the couch, propping his head on his hands.

Gordon nearly falls off the sofa in surprise. “Jesus fuck! How long have you been standing there? For the sake of my fucking blood pressure, PLEASE don’t do that again.”

“Jeez, sorry. Was trying to give a bro a compliment,” Benrey says quietly. He goes silent for a good five minutes, but breaks the silence with a pensive tone in his voice, “Hey, uh, actually, can we talk about sumn’?”

Gordon reluctantly sets down his controller, but ultimately decides that this is probably important. “Sure. What’s up?”

“Okay uh, this is a serious talk. Super serious time right now. Real important.” Benrey scratches the back of his head, water from his hair flicking onto his shirt every so often.

“Uh, okay,” Gordon shrugs. As if this hasn’t been insanely serious in the first place. He continues, “So. What is it?”

“Well, um,” Benrey begins, walking around and taking a seat beside Gordon, “I just wanted to... apologize and shit. About Xen. And a lot of other things. That was cringe of me.”

Gordon raises an eyebrow at both his tacky phrasing and his apology, “Weren’t you making fun of me and shit at Xen? I’m pretty sure you said you didn’t want to be the bad guy, but you did anyways.”

“Listen. I was pissed. You were pissed. Everyone was just pissed. But I did. Wasn’t very cool of me. Didn’t want to be the bad guy though, yeah. Uh, I think— I guess that I basically got my feelings too hurt to use my brain, made bad choices. Hurt people. You. And that’s lame. And I’m really sorry. I was just tryna make you laugh at first, man, and then you— you took that shit seriously, and that hurt. Just wanted to get on your nerves for jokes, bro. I wanted to be your friend, and in Xen I was too upset to think about what I was doing. Was, uh, was scared about losing my life permanently, and you were all freaked out and like, “bluhh I’m Gordon Feetman this is insane Benrey how could you muehbmehmeh”— so I fought back. But I shouldn’t have done all that shit to you to cause that, that’s my fault. Sorry for your arm. I know you think that’s probably a lame little nerd baby response. Little lame-ass excuse baby Benrey. But I’m really sorry.”

The taller one of the two gives him a look. A confused, and maybe even frustrated look. Uh oh.

“That’s your apology? Really? I— I can’t believe I expected anything more. Blaming your actions on your feelings and how you reacted towards me; you— you have the capability to control your actions, man! Are you serious?! And then you actually have the audacity to mock me while apologizing? You,” he chuckles, “you’re fucking ridiculous if you think that makes me feel any better!”

Benrey’s silent. His flat facial expression slightly contorting into a more melancholy one. He folds his arms, looking away from Gordon.

“Come on, I’m not— I’m not good at this. I’m trying to like, be mature and stuff. I didn’t just show up at your place to crash here, even though that was, uh, one of the reasons. I wanted to just— I just wanted to let you know that I really don’t like how we treated each other, bro. Wanted to say sorry for my part.” And with that, Benrey teleports away, leaving lingering, almost glitchlike particles suspended in the air.

Gordon doesn’t do anything but just... stare. That was... a lot. At this point, he doesn’t even have the energy to go and look for Benrey, and he doesn’t even know if he wants to right now. One thing he can do, though, is call Tommy. He’s got some explaining to do.


	2. Iris means “I don’t want to talk about this”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I got so many encouraging comments, I decided that I’m gonna keep working on this! Thank you so much for your support, it means a lot! And just to throw in a shameless plug, I’m @gerblins_ on insta if you feel like checking it out ^^
> 
> (Also! Tw for descriptions of injury & ptsd nightmares)

The familiar buzzing of his phone goes off in his hand as Gordon waits for Tommy to pick up.

Soon enough, he does. 

“Hello, Mr. Freeman! I was just taking a nap. It’s— you didn’t interrupt it though. Uh— um, Sunkist says hi!” The cheeriness in his voice is going to make this much more difficult. Gordon has to choose his words carefully.

He hesitantly begins his sentence not wanting to come off as blatantly frustrated, “Uh, yeah. Hi, Tommy. Well,” Gordon pauses for a minute, but continues, “Benrey showed up at my doorstep today. He told me that you gave him my address. Got any idea what that’s about?”

It’s almost audible how the mood changes, and that becomes a reality as soon as Tommy responds. 

“...Oh. Um, I— yeah... I’m sorry, Mr. Freeman. It’s— well, he was just so sad and lonely, and my dad wouldn’t let me take Benrey in. He asked for your address to apologize, I think, and he really does feel bad about, um, your- your arm. Maybe you should—“ he gets cut off by what sounds like shuffling or the clunking of something, it’s hard to distinguish which one.

“—one second, Mr. Freeman.”

He hangs up. After not even five minutes of talking, Tommy hangs up. Gordon really shouldn’t be surprised, he never gets straightforward information from the science team. He sets his phone on his lap. Gordon frustratedly groans and places a palm on his forehead. Gosh, this is gonna give him a headache. The guy’s tired of feeling avoided and confused. It’s not like he’s in the wrong here, obviously it’s Benrey, right? I mean, Benrey showed up out of nowhere, gave Gordon a sob story, and actually convinced him to feel bad for the alien dipshit. Just— Ugh. He places his phone face-down on the glass coffee table, the black case making a light clacking noise when it meets the transparent surface. 

Gordon sits in his silent living room, feeling the air turn cold. Tightening the blanket around him, he sighs in exasperation. Why did Benrey have to show up? Why did he even want to apologize? Gordon leans his head into the back of the couch, taking deep breaths and fighting his own thoughts on the matter. He doesn’t even know if he didn’t appreciate Benrey’s apology anymore. The rain on the roof gets heavier. Its hypnotic rhythm is hard to ignore; the calming nature of it brings the man some peace of mind to an extent. Slowly, softly, he drifts to sleep.

Blood. 

That’s the first thing he sees. Coming to his senses, he frantically looks around for the source of it. Gordon finds himself in a room of sorts. It’s very dingy, unsanitary, and the foul smell of garbage is forcing itself into the air. He’s sitting in shallow water, and a grate above him is illuminating the murky liquid with patches of rectangular light. The source of something so contrast compared to the dull grunge of the room wouldn’t be that hard to find. Then, it hits him. Slowly shifting his gaze to his own body, he notices something. An HEV suit. A missing arm. Horrified, he stares at his limb. The flesh is torn and uneven, and the bone is fractured indefinitely. 

Yelling at the sudden pang of agony, he doubles over, clutching the mangled appendage. Besides the hellish and unbearable pain in his now 2/3rds of an arm, he feels something else. Gordon knows that this has happened before. He’s back. He’s back in this disastrous biohazard of a facility. Panic, confusion and fear begin to grip his mind with no mercy. He runs towards the stairs out of the compactor he’s been tossed in, but alas, the grate is completely sealed over them, gracing him with nothing but despair. Gordon does whatever he can— hitting the grate as hard as humanly possible to break it, or at least make enough noise for someone to break him free. Begging to be let out to whoever was in earshot. 

He’s suddenly thrust out of his subconscious hell by the voice of his son. Gordon wakes with a start— quickly gasping and looking around frantically, assessing his whereabouts and checking his stub of an arm with his hand. This only leads him to find that he fell on the floor in his sleep and bumped his head on the way down. Joshua looks terrified, it must’ve woken him up. He’s hunched over his father, with tiny hands placed on his dad’s face, wiping his father’s tears away and loudly– but consolingly– shushing him.

“Daddy, you woke up! You fell off the couch and now you’re crying. It’s okay, Daddy.”

He touches his face with his middle and index fingers. Damn. He really was crying. He pulls his son into a hug, letting himself cry. Joshua, not hearing the quiet sniffles of his father, assumes that his father just needs a hug because of the little booboo on his head. That’s what Joshua does when he gets a scratch, anyways. Soon enough, Gordon, while not having the energy to put on any sort of fake face whatsoever, smiles faintly at his son. He props himself up with his left hand.

“Ah— hey, uh, hi bud. Thanks for checkin’ on me, but I’m okay. It’s okay, Joshie,” he continues quietly. His voice is raw, but not too noticeably, “you shouldn’t have had to see that.” He said the last part more for himself, rather than his son.

He sighs, sitting up completely as Joshua stands up to move for him. He wipes off his face completely with his hand, and glances at his now much less worried toddler. Gordon quickly brainstorms a subject change to make sure his son isn’t concerned about him or freaked out.

“Hey buddy, you haven’t had food yet, and it’s about snack time. Don’t wanna ruin dinner by getting you something too filling, though.” Gordon ruffles Joshua’s hair, “Want a snack?”

Joshua’s eyes light up, and a huge grin slowly creeps onto his face. He hops in place to ensure that his dad knows just how excited he is to be asked such a question.

“Pancakes! I want pancakes!”

Gordon smiles at his son, chuckling weakly. He may be exhausted and on the verge of a breakdown, but he’s mastered putting on a mask for his son despite the near debilitating anxiety and emotional strain he gets after a nightmare or flashback. He swallows some air, hoping that his voice doesn’t become any more shaky. It’s a destructive method, but he’ll just let himself cope as soon as he’s somewhere where Joshua won’t see. That’s the last thing he wants.

“Whaaat? You’re crazy, kid. That’s a meal, not a snack.”

Disappointed, Joshua folds his arms, and his smile quickly downturns. He stomps his foot too for good measure. 

“But I want pancakes! Please, Daddy? Pleeeeease?”

Eventually, Gordon gives in to his son’s apparent dire pancake need, despite his blurry mind practically pleading for respite. He walks to the kitchen as Joshua bounds after him. He gets out all of the necessary ingredients to make pancakes, and gets to cookin’. Making sure his face isn’t in view of his preoccupied four year old, he silently lets some emotion out. He doesn’t even notice the loud vibrating of his phone on the coffee table.

—

Benrey’s seated on the bed of his dear friend Tommy, playing his phone. Tommy, on the other hand, is seated in one of those neat rolly office chairs by the desk in his room, cluttered with multiple doodles and empty soda cans. They’re sitting in silence, and the more alien of the two is ignoring the uncomfortable atmosphere thickening in the room. The only sounds loud enough to hear are Benrey’s phone and his little exclamations of victory whenever he gets a new high score on whatever he’s playing. Tommy, not one for awkward silences, decides to break it.

“Benrey, um, did– did something happen? Because we’ve been sitting like this since you decided to— since you got here, and it’s been, um, 45 minutes.”

Benrey answers, his gaze not breaking from his phone, “Wha? No, it’s chill. Everything’s cool and fine. No hurt feelings here, man. Just wanted to hang out. Why, uh, why d’you wanna know? Somethin’ gotcha worried?”

“Well, Mr. Freeman called right before you got here,” Tommy starts hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck, “he was talking— he was asking about, um, why I gave you his address.”

Benrey nods, making an “o” shape with his mouth, and his brows furrow slightly. “Oh. Okay. Is he, like, mad? Would suck if he fussed at you. Fussy whiny Freeman.” He sets down his phone on the multicolored comforter and makes a dissatisfied grunt; he lost his winning streak.

Tommy gives a concerned look, and Benrey meets his gaze, no longer feeling like playing.

“Um, did you at least apologize? Mr. Freeman didn’t, um, make any comments on that. It wouldn’t be— it wouldn’t be nice if you just went there and left.”

Benrey huffs and rolls his eyes. He folds his arms and sits in a ball, his slightly annoyed expression turning into one saltier than the Dead Sea. Maybe a little hurt, too. He coughs up some indigo-purple Sweet Voice.

“That’s just it. I did. He didn’t want to hear it. Was trying to make things okay between us. He got mad at me and told me that my apology was, like, bad. It sucked, man. We used to be tight. Won’t even listen to me.”

Tommy frowns. He figured that at least Gordon would recognize that Benrey’s trying.  
“Iris means... ‘I don’t want to talk about this’.” He explains aloud, staring at the thin bubbles with worry.

Benrey looks away from Tommy at this. He must really be upset.

Tapping his chin, Tommy tries to come up with something that’ll either make Gordon less angry at Benrey or the other way around. Then, he comes up with something that just might work. Or, well, he’s seen it work in movies.

He clears his throat, “Benrey, you still want him to forgive you, right?”

Benrey nods, now hugging his knees to his chest and resting his head on them.

“Well, um, I think— there’s this idea that I just came up with! But we have to do it very carefully. More carefully, than, um, a tightrope walker performing at the circus.” Tommy ends his sentence with a conclusive nod.

Benrey quietly snickers, turning his head back to look at Tommy with slight amusement. His mood still isn’t perfectly happy, though. “Okay, sweet. Big cool plan for Benrey? Careful plan?”

“Well, um, I could send him on— I could make a scavenger hunt, and he has to find things, uh, and it leads up to you! And you can make another apology.” Tommy smiles, placing a hand on Benrey’s shoulder.

Benrey nods. “Sounds cool. But, uh,” his small smile fades, “not sure that would work. You know Freeman. Stubborn. Stubborn and doesn’t like doing fun things.”

Tommy’s brows furrow in thought. He stands up from his rolling chair, as motion helps him think occasionally. This time, though, it wasn’t of much help.

“Well, we can always call him,” Tommy starts, “and I’ll explain the scavenger hunt, without— I won’t mention you.”

Benrey quietly agrees to this suggestion, and nods. Tommy looks over at his cluttered desk and picks up his yellow-cased phone. Unlocking it, he goes straight to the call app. He dials Gordon’s number, and waits.

—

It’s 4pm. Gordon has already served his son his breakfast-dinner, and sent him off to have a sleepover with one of his preschool friends. Feeling practically dead, he trudges to his room and flops on the bed. He really should’ve just excused himself earlier to go let it out, he thinks; he feels horrible. Feeling the sting of tears forming in his eyes, he tries to distract himself with looking around his room. It’s walls are a pale blue, similar to his living room. Unlike his living room, though, it’s extremely untidy. No matter how much he cleans his house, he never has the motivation to pick up his room. Empty cups and bowls sit on his nightstands, and a number of clothing articles lay strewn about his carpeted floor. His bed has been unmade since god knows how long. 

...Has it always been this untidy?

Gordon closes his now teary eyes. That didn’t make him feel any better. Quickly trying to think of yet another diversion, he goes over the events of the day. He woke up to a knock on his door, and opened it. Benrey. He was so disheveled and miserable looking. It made Gordon feel bad. He let Benrey take a shower, even though he was angry about him showing up out of nowhere. Benrey even explained his situation, and gave him an apology. And Gordon yelled at him for it. God, the more he thinks about it, the more of a fuck up that decision was. He really should’ve just tried to keep his cool. Now Benrey’s god knows where, and although Gordon won’t admit it, he feels awful thinking about Benrey not having anywhere to stay.

He rolls into his side, feeling the water in his eyes building up until it flows out of them. The guy is too exhausted to cry, but he’s too drained to keep himself from breaking down. He’s caught in a limbo; exhaustedly choking out an occasional sob and not bothering to wipe the steady tears going down his face. Gordon stays like that for a while, until he eventually falls asleep. This time, his sleep wasn’t as restless. 

—

He groggily opens his eyes, his hair sticking to his face. The discomfort of his glasses pressing against his nose further urges him to wake up. Adjusting them, he unsticks a few strands of hair stuck to his face. Glancing around at his nightstands, he realizes that he doesn’t have his phone. Slowly sitting up with a yawn, he gets the rest of the hair on his face out of the way. It’s a slow venture to the living room, but eventually he makes it, grabbing his phone from the coffee table to check the time. 

It’s 9:25. Gosh, he never wakes up this early. Not only does he notice the unusual time, but he sees that he’s missed 5 calls from Tommy. Shit. He shouldn’t call him right now, Tommy’s probably still asleep. Glancing around, Gordon searches for something to do. No, he doesn’t want to play video games, so that’s off the table. He’s not very hungry, either...

His eyes catch on something taped to the window on his front door. It seems to be attached to it from the outside, which is made obvious given that he’s looking through a crystal clear surface to observe it. Puzzled, he makes his way over it. Then, he realizes something. The thing on the door is still being attached by someone. His curiosity peaked, he checks to see if he’s presentable. Yep, check; he has a t-shirt and some pajama pants on. Okay, nice. Now knowing that he at least looks decent, he opens the door to see who it is. 

Of course it’s Benrey. The pale man seems to be slightly startled by the door suddenly opening. He runs a hand through his short black hair, staring at the taller man.

“Uh, yo. What,” he clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure and to look more pitiable, “what’s up. Was, um, just leaving a note here for you.”

Gordon just, stares. Of course, this isn’t the most random thing Benrey has done, but he was certain that he scared the guy off. Not near as angry anymore, but perhaps slightly annoyed at Benrey’s obvious pitiful act and almost feeling a little guilty despite it, he answers, “Dude, it’s 9:30 in the morning. Why’re you taping a note to my door?”

“Oh, I’m— I’m not supposed to tell you.” Benrey shrugs nonchalantly.

Gordon sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Benrey, just tell me. It’s not like I can even do anything to you.”

“You could be mean. You do that a lot. Gordon Meanman.” Benrey interjects, avoiding eye contact with Gordon. He folds his arms across his chest. He’s... still wearing the clothing that Gordon lent him.

The taller one of the two, as much as it annoys him, realizes that... yeah. He can be pretty mean. Taking in this realization, he sighs, “You know what? You’re right. That’s my bad. I guess it doesn’t make anything better. I’m— I’m working on it.”

Benrey nods, as a form of a silent “okay”. Taking a deep breath, he straightens his posture, and looks at Gordon.  
“I guess I could tell you why I’m putting up a note. Tommy kept calling you last night. I guess you were probably still asleep, but he helped me arrange, um, kind of a big apology thing for me to do. It was gonna be really cool. Were gonna be fancy snacks and shit, bro. But, um, the note was explaining that. It was a scavenger hunt thing. But I guess that’s, um, out of the window. Do you want me to apologize now—“

“No, no, you already did that. I mean, sure, it was phrased like a five year old’s apology, but... I’ll believe that you really did mean it. I doubt I’ll ever get over the shit that went down at Xen or my arm, let that be clear. But, Benrey... thanks for owning up, man. That’s cool of you. Uh, sorry for being such a dick to you and complaining about your apology, really. I feel pretty shitty about that.” Gordon’s eyebrows lower; his expression is a guilty one.

“Really? Like, for serious?”

“Yeah.”

Aww, Feetman cares me? That’s kinda gay, dude.”

Gordon rolls his eyes. “It’s not gay to feel bad about something. Why are you even using it like that?”

“I have the right to. So, are we cool now? Bro?” Benrey looks up at Gordon, his eyes reflecting the hope that everything’s okay.

“Yeah, for now, I think. But don’t go around acting all buddy-buddy with me,” Gordon says, his tone now lighter.

“Sure thing, Feetman, as you, uh, wish and whatever,” Benrey lightheartedly mocks, “if that makes your little wimp baby heart happy. Little Babyman. Uh, it’s cool if I go inside, right, bro?”

Gordon nods, his mood is improving; it feels like a huge weight got lifted off his chest. “Sure. Come on in.”

Shutting the door, a wave of relief passes over Gordon. Conflict isn’t good for his blood pressure, so he’s glad that’s over. Though, he can’t help but wonder what Benrey meant by “I have the right to”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gordon’s breakdowns kind of seem out of place as there’s no interactions with other characters to address them, but they’re very important for future chapters! Admittedly I feel like I could have described and written it better, but I lack the level of literacy required for that,, nevertheless, sometimes ya gotta put in some foreshadowing for future situations yk?


	3. A/N

Hello, everyone! I sincerely apologize not updating for so long, and I should’ve made this update sooner. This fic won’t be left incomplete, but it will be on hold until further notice. Unfortunately my hyperfixation on HLVRAI has run it’s course and I just can’t get into it the same way I was a couple months ago. I’m sure this is really disappointing for a lot of you guys, and I’m really sorry! However, I am still writing and will post more works soon; it just won’t be for the same fandom. I’m more focused on Sally Face and Friday Night Funkin’ these days, so I hope you’ll stay interested in my works. That’s all, and thank you so much for reading this fic so far!


End file.
